


Livin´On A Prayer

by zwischenimmerundnie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Bon Jovi music, M/M, Motel, Motorcycles, One Night Stands, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zwischenimmerundnie/pseuds/zwischenimmerundnie
Summary: Bon Jovi. Motorcycles. Combat Boots. Leather Jackets. Skinny Jeans. Dirty Roads. Cheap Motel. Empty Bar. Louisiana.





	Livin´On A Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Because I feel like this fandom hasn´t really take advantage of the fact Armie Hammer loves motorcycles.   
> Hope you enjoy it. :)

_ It's all the same, only the names will change _

_ Everyday it seems we're wasting away _

_ Another place where the faces are so cold _

_ I'd drive all night just to get back home _

_ I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride _

_ I'm wanted dead or alive _

_ Wanted dead or alive _

 

Blue skies and empty dusty roads was what he had seen the most the past week, riding his motorcycle across the country, exploring the different cities he crossed by and meeting new people. Some were friendly, some barely gave him the time of their day, some were polite enough to help him fix his motorcycle or pointing out the best place to sleep, while some looked at him with disgusted eyes. He was used to all of this, though, it wasn't the first time Armie was travelling the country in his motorcycle and it wasn't going to be the last, of that he was sure.

At twenty two years old, Armand Douglas Hammer had left behind a wealthy, conservative family behind, moved from his precious mansion in San Diego, built his own -and rather small for his mother´s like- moto repair shop, fixed the apartment above it to be his new home and since then, ten years ago, he had been living his own life, without the pressure of carrying the family name or going into fancy universities and getting degrees in things he had no passion about.

It wasn't always easy, that was something he would admit to anyone who asked. He spent a good part of his life with maids, money to do whatever the hell he wanted and all of a sudden he was on his own, providing for himself with no help from his parents, who said he wouldn't last two months on his own. He almost didn't, he struggled to find a job to pay for his bills, he barely left the house since he was saving most of his money for his own shop, but in the end everything worked out and he was able to do what he had always loved. Fix and ride motorcycles, meet new people and travel around the country.

This time he had planned a much smaller trip than the last -a wild ride through Route 66 with some of his close friends, which almost ended with him getting arrested for the weed he had in his pocket. This time Armie planned on going all the way to New Orleans, spend a few days in town, enjoying not only the vibrant lifestyle, the music and the drinks, but also visiting some cool moto shops he had heard about and that could help his own business get better.

He had left Route 49 just two hours ago, the wind blazing, giving his cheeks a brighter tone than they normally were and messing with his hair even though he had a helmet on. His new baby, a black BMW R 1200 RT had to be one of the best motorcycles he had ever land eyes on and there was absolutely nothing he could complain about it. The thing even had a audio system, what else could he ask for?

It's around six in the evening when Armie stops his motorcycle in front of a bar in a small town a few minutes outside Baton Rouge. His surroundings are mostly quiet, some kids playing a few blocks away, some teenage girls looking at him from the diner across the street; the place seems friendly, but kind of forgotten by most of the world, definitely not the most popular stop on anyone´s route towards New Orleans.

Armie takes off his helmet and fixes his blond hair with his fingers, blue eyes still scanning his surroundings. When he hops off of the motorcycle, Armie could easily be mistaken for a male model posing for a commercial. Tall, blond, muscular and with a face hard to forget. His dusty black clothes were a bit worn out, but that kind of made the whole look seem way more attractive than it was. His leather jacket fitted him perfectly, his tight jeans and shirt allowed a peek on his toned legs and abs, while his combat boots were lazily tied and more brown than the original black. 

His walk is confident, large and elegant strides, head held high and a serious look on his face as he casually walked the few steps from his motorcycle to the door of the bar. From the outside the bar seemed empty, but Armie noticed a couple of locals -or what he assumed to be- sitting around the tables. The stools were all free and Armie quickly took a seat in one of them, stretching his arms and back, just so he could lean against the wooden counter right after it. 

 

_ An angel's smile is what you sell _

_ You promise me heaven, then put me through hell _

_ Chains of love, got a hold on me _

_ When passion's a prison, you can't break free _

 

Bon Jovi´s  **You Give Love A Bad Name** starts playing shortly after Armie sits down and a small smile creeps on the corner of his lips. If there is one constant thing on all of his trips is the fact Bon Jovi is always playing. Nick and Ashton normally mock him, saying Bon Jovi is too mellow, something that only girls like to listen to, but Armie seriously couldn't give a damn about them. He liked what he liked and he would never be ashamed of that.

He taps his fingers on the counter as he waits for someone to actually attend him. He bites on his lip, looks around the place and tries not to get too impatient; the place is far from crowded, soon enough someone will show up. While that doesn't seem to happen, Armie removes his jacket, tosses on the stool next to him and rolls his shoulders, finally able to fully relax his muscles.

The moment he finds a bed to lie on, he knows he won't remain awake for long.

“Sorry for making you wait. What can I get you, Sir?”

 

 

*******

 

The dark bar is nearly empty, in the far left corner close to a small rusty stage, the tall and lean brunette has his green eyes focused on the jukebox in front of him. He is flipping through songs, trying to choose something that hasn't played on the last four hours, something that he might actually enjoy for once other than the old crap some of the customers had chosen.  He is backed on his left leg, a cloth hanging from the back pocket of his washed out skinny jeans, his worn out shirt has holes in it and it looks way more grey than it ever was white and his combat boots, lazily tied, are dustier than the roads outside.

Some would say he doesn't care about his looks, others would say that lazy and dirty look was extremely well thought. Timothée, always keen to be a mystery in that old and boring town, would never admit to neither the former nor the latter.

Bon Jovi´s albums pop up on the screen and the boy sighs, giving up in his quest for anything different and just hits play. The jukebox jams -as it always does- just as the door opens and all eyes turn to it; the kid raises his eyebrow as the tall blond man in all black looks around, his face serious, but still quite amicable. Timothée had never seen him before, of that he was sure, the man had that kind of face no one can forget. He watches quietly as the man strides over to the bar and takes a seat in one of the many empty stools, stretching his arms and back just before he crunched forward, leaning against the counter.

Timothée kicks the jukebox and Bon Jovi´s  **You Give Love A Bad Name** starts playing. As he lazily walks over to the bar, he mutters the song and has to admit that he kind of digs that one. It has a nice beat and the lyrics are not so bad, although he is still way more of an AC/DC fan than anything else.

By the time Timothée reaches the bar, the man has removed his jacket, exposing his muscular arms to the world. His tight black shirt leaves little to the imagination and Timothée would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little tingling on his stomach upon seeing him from up close.

“Sorry for making you wait. What can I get you, Sir?”

When the man looks up at him, Timothée can almost feel his insides twisting and turning; the chiseled jaw, the stubble and the deep blue eyes are kind of deadly, a combo that can swipe anyone off of their feet in a matter of seconds. He swallows dryly, his green eyes blinking away a couple of times as if they were trying to actually focus on such beauty. He is definitely not from around there.

“Can I get a beer, please?”

Timothée crackles his neck, leaning his hands on the wooden counter while he rocks back and forth. “We´ve got over thirty different kinds of beer, buddy, you gonna have to do better than that.”

The handsome stranger lets out a chuckle, nodding his head as he looked around the bar. “And what exactly are those thirty different kinds of beer, kid?”

“It's Timothée.”

“Okay, Timothy, what are…”

Timothée shakes his head, his finger signaling for the man to stop talking. “Not Timothy, Ti-mo-thée.”

“Are you serious right now?”

He shrugs and reaches for the mess of papers they call a beer menu and slides it over to the stranger. “You can choose from here, but if I can be of any help, I'd say you should go for a Corona Extra. The price is good and it is truly one of the best ones we have here, most of the men in this town are too tasteless to appreciate it, but I think you would like it.”

“Then I´ll get a Corona Extra.”

“Good choice.”

Timothée turns to the large fridge just a couple of steps away from him and fishes for a glistening bottle. Smoothly, he catches the cloth that has been hanging from his back pocket and casually dries the bottle, just then he makes it back to the counter, opening it up and sliding over to the handsome stranger, who did not take his eyes away from him.

"You are not from here, are you?"

He raises his eyes as soon as the words leave his mouth and watches as the stranger shakes his head, straightening his body while he chugs down on the beer. Timothée can see his Adam´s apple moving and the way his jaw moves, two things that in any other customer would mean shit, but with this man was strangely pleasant to watch.

"No, I am not." He says, taking a look at the label on the bottle. "I am crossing the country with my moto and stopped here."

"Of all the cities in the state, you decided to stop here? Not sure you did a good thing, buddy."

"Armie."

Timothée nods, his hand lazily wiping the counter. "Well, Armie, may I ask you where you headed to?"

"New Orleans."

"They say is a beautiful city."

"It is."

Timothée nods again, but remains quiet, just watching as Armie drinks some more of his beer. "You want another one of that?"

"Maybe later, do you got anything to eat?"

"As it turns out, our selection of food is even better than our beer."

"Then it seems like I stopped at the right place."

Timothée is not sure, maybe he is going crazy, but there is something about the way Armie said that which seemed almost provocative. Once again, he swallows dryly and quickly grabs the food menu, this one clearly in better shape than the previous one. He hands it to Armie, fingers brushing slightly, which makes him feel a weird shiver down his spine.

"Thanks, you got any suggestions?"

"I really don´t wanna brag, but my burger is the best in town." Armie nods and Timothée shrugs. "Of course there´s only two more places here where you can get burgers, but that really doesn´t matter."

A loud and contagious laugh echoes from Armie and wrinkles show up on the corner of his eyes. Once again, Timothée is confused on how something so normal can be so appealing.

"You are good, kid...I´m sorry, Ti-mo-thée."

Timothée smirks. "Do you want the burger or not, buddy?"

"Please."

  
  


******

 

It takes Timothée about fifteen minutes to get the burger done, his eyes fully concentrated on his task, while Armie quietly watches from his stool. The brunette made very little conversation while cooking, but from time to time would steal a quick glance and ask something, mostly about how exactly Armie liked his burger.

Armie finished his beer minutes before and was just dying for another one, the cold liquid down his throat was relaxing after a whole day on the road, but he did not want to interrupt Timothée´s concentration and so he remained quiet, playing with the empty bottle.

When Timothée finally finishes and slides the plate over to him, he can´t help but look impressed. The burger does look amazing and the smell is making his stomach growl even more than it already was.

 

_ Tommy used to work on the docks _

_ Union's been on strike _

_ He's down on his luck _

_ It's tough, so tough _

_ Gina works the diner all day _

_ Working for her man, she brings home her pay _

_ For love, for love _

 

Suddenly another Bon Jovi song comes up and in the middle of his first bite, he can see Timothée roll his eyes. He dries his hand and throws the clothe on the counter, muttering something as he turns to leave. Armie places the burger down and quickly reaches for Timothée´s hand, stopping him immediately.

Armie tries to ignore the goosebumps that creeps on his skin as well as the softness of this kid´s skin.

"Don´t change it."

He arches an eyebrow. "Bon Jovi? Seriously?"

"Best music to listen on the road in my opinion."

"I could name at least ten other bands that would be so much more fun to listen to."

"Nothing makes me happier than turn on my motorcycle, press play on the music and ride down the road as Livin On A Prayer starts playing."

"Wow, you are a big fan."

"A little bit, yes." He says with a smile and that´s when he realizes his hand is still holding onto Timothée´s. His blue eyes turn to it and he can feel Timothée does the exact same. In a quick movement, Armie retrieves his hand away and holds the bottle up. "Can I get another one, please?"

"Sure."

"Your burger is delicious, by the way, exactly what I needed after a long day on the road."

"Is really none of my business," starts Timothée, handing Armie another beer. "After all I´ve known you for less than an hour, but where are you from?"

"California, Los Angeles."

"Land of the rich and famous, should have figured out."

"And why is that?"

"Just a hint." It was clear to Armie that was not what he wanted to say, but he would not push it. "Can I ask another question?"

"Go ahead, kid."

"How does it feel to cross the country in a motorcycle?"

"Amazing. Feel the wind on your face, look ahead and see only the horizon, meet all these small towns and its people, it´s refreshing and liberating. There´s nothing I like more in the world."

"It sounds amazing."

"Have you ever done something like this?" Armie asks in between bites, his eyes locked on Timothée, who shakes his head.

"I barely leave this town, let alone in a motorcycle."

"You should try it sometime."

"Maybe you could give me a ride."

The teasing tone doesn´t go by unnoticed by Armie, who can´t help but smirk. He gives Timothée a long and intense look, but remains quiet and turns his attention back to the burger in his hands.

 

_ We've got to hold on ready or not _

_ You live for the fight when that's all that you've got _

_ We're half way there _

_ Livin' on a prayer _

_ Take my hand, we'll make it, I swear _

_ Livin' on a prayer _

  
  


*******

 

_ Now I'm drowning in the flood _

_ You see I've always been a fighter _

_ But without you I give up _

_ Now I can't sing a love song _

_ Like the way it's meant to be _

_ Well I guess I'm not that good anymore _

_ But baby that's just me _

 

Timothée laughs as he watches Armie´s performance, hand clutching onto his heart and head thrown back as he spins around on the stool. Never has him seen a man behave like that, so free and unabashed. A man that truly gave no importance to whatever people were thinking of him. Sure, he was drinking his fourth beer of the night, but judging by how well he was singing and by the balance he maintained while on top of that stool, Timothée was pretty sure Armie was still sober.

That was just who he really was and Timothée would love to get to know more.

"Wow, you are a true fanboy."

Armie stops mid spin, grasping onto the counter as he shoots Timothée a look. "You can´t tell me you don´t feel your heart breaking when you hear this song."

"I can feel my ears bleeding, that´s what I can feel."

"You are truly heartless, Ti-mo-thée."

Timothée chuckles, leaning an arm on the counter as he takes the empty beer bottle from Armie. "I think you´ve drank a bit too much already, buddy."

"Four bottles don't do much for me, kid, believe me. I have been in very shitty situations where alcohol is the only way to keep yourself going, so this is a typical night out for me."

"Hollywood boy got a tough life?" He was mocking, but the little twitch on Armie´s face made it clear he had hit a nerve. "I am sorry, I didn´t mean to sound so mean."

"You didn´t." Armie looks around, stretches his body and finally lets out a sigh. "Okay, I gotta be back on the road first thing in the morning, do you know any place I could crash?"

"I know a pretty good place."

Armie raises an eyebrow and Timothée smirks. "Is this the moment you say your bed?"

"Wow, you´re not even trying to play coy, are you?"

"Because you are?"

"I´m a respected man, okay? I don´t go around throwing myself at any random motorcycle riding stud that happens to show up at my bar."

"Motorcycle riding stud..." He smirks, leaning closer to Timothée. "I like the sound of that."

They are too close for Timothée to keep himself cool, so he slowly backs away. Not that he wouldn´t love to just close the gap between them completely, but sadly that´s not something he would do on his father´s bar for everyone to see.

"So, about that place for me to crash..."

"We got two places where you could stay. One is Jeremy´s Bed and Breakfast and the other one is Bertha´s Motel, but if you would take another advice from me, I would say to stay on Bertha, because Jeremy is just a creepy old dude."

"What kind of creep?"

"That kind."

"So Bertha it is." Armie says as he hops off of the stool and grabs his wallet. Timothée washes in silence as he goes through it and then looks back up at him. "How much do I owe you?"

"Twenty eight dollars."

"Just that?"

"You want me to charge you more? Because I will."

"Twenty eight dollars it is," he says as he slides the bills over to Timothée. "So, you still want to check out the motorcycle? Maybe you could help me find Bertha´s Motel."

"I´d be glad to help, don´t you to get lost in this town."

Armie smiles, placing his wallet back in the pocket and grabbing his jacket. "I´ll wait for you outside."

  
  


*******

 

“Took you long enough.”

Armie is leaned on his motorcycle, arms crossed and jacket thrown over the shoulder as he watches Timothée quietly and lazily walk over to him. The younger man has his hands stuck in his pockets, his green eyes traveling through every single detail in the motorcycle, a look Armie is quite used to see.

“Fuck, this is your motorcycle? How much money did you spend on it?”

“You don't ask people these kind of stuff, kid.”

Timothée rolls his eyes as he approaches Armie, his fingertips trace the cold metal and leather of the big black motorcycle, that shines in the sunset. Armie stands still, his eyes roaming through Timothée´s body and taking in every little movement he makes. Each second their bodies become a bit closer, the heat that emanates from them seem to get higher and when their arms touch, goosebumps run through them.

Timothée wets his lips, tapping on the leather seat before he finds the courage to turn to the side. Although one of the tallest people in town, next to Armie, Timothée feels small and fragile and when he looks up at the blond God standing beside him, his knees buckle.

Armie looks at Timothée as if he is trying to read his mind, although it isn´t really necessary, it´s quite clear for both of them how this day is gonna end. His blue eyes trace each freckle on Timothée´s young and soft skin, before landing on his pink and inviting lips. He wets his own lips, a fire burning inside of him that comes all the way from the tip of his toes.

"So, that motel you were talking about?"

"Yeah, you want me to take you there now?"

"I think I will be the one taking us there, but you can give me the instructions." Timothée rolls his eyes once more and Armie hands him the extra helmet. He helps Timothée with it before grabbing his own and putting it on while mounting on the motorcycle. "Hop on."

Timothée does so with a wide smile on his face, excitement filling him as he holds onto Armie´s waist and presses his chest to his back.

"Hold on tight."

"No need to tell me twice."

  
  


*******

 

The motel is small, old and in desperate need of some painting. The tiny reception has a chair close to the door and a counter that is nearly falling apart, Armie can see the power cords tangled on one another and humidity in some of the walls. To be completely honest the place is not even close to looking good, but he has been through enough in his travels not to ask for too much. As long as he can get a bed and clean sheets, he can get on board of anything.

"....the room is not for me, Bertha, is for my friend Armie."

Bertha, a woman in her mid fifties who clearly has known Timothée ever since he was baby, is a bit skeptical about the whole thing, her eyes wandering from Timothée to Armie.

"He needs a place to crash for the night because he is on a road trip to New Orleans. He stopped by the bar and asked if I happened to know a good place for him to sleep for the night and I, of course, told him about this place."

Armie clears his throat and stand his hand out for Bertha, whose expression completely changes the moment he smiles. "Hi, it´s nice to meet you. Timothée said the nicest thing about your motel and I really hope you still have a room left, because I´ve been out on the road the whole day and I need to get back on it first thing in the morning. I really need some sleep."

Timothée leans on the counter, watching the whole exchange with a smirk on his face. Never has him seen Bertha look so calm and relaxed, but one brief look at the smile Armie has on his face and he knows anyone would be charmed in an instant.

"Of course we have a room, I wouldn´t leave such a sweet boy out in the cold all night." Timothée nearly laughs, but manages to keep himself together. "Here, you´re on room 16. Is the best one we have, large windows, a nice bathtub and a king size bed."

"Thank you, Bertha." 

"No problem, sweetie. You have a good night of sleep."

"I will, thank you."

Armie reaches for the key, follows Timothée out of the tiny reception and down the long corridor. They walk side by side, silence taking them over as excitement and tension starts to build up. When their arms touch briefly, shivers run down their spine and the hair at the nape of their neck stands up. They exchange a quick look, small smiles on the corner of their lips and a sparkle in their eyes that says way more than words would ever be able to describe.

The room Bertha has given Armie is the last one on the right side of the corridor and once they reach it, Timothée presses his face against the window, trying to take a peek at the room inside while Armie unlocks the door.

Armie walks in first and takes one look around the place. The room it´s small, but well lightened, the painting on the walls are much better than the ones on the reception, the floor it´s clean and the bed sheets seem new. Not that any of this would actually matter, the last thing Armie was worried about was how the bedroom looked like.

He takes off the leather jacket, throws it to the bed and then slowly turns around, his eyes finding Timothée, who is leaned against the closed door. He has his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, his cheeks are slightly rose and his foot is tapping the wooden floor repeatedly. Armie smiles sweetly at Timothée as he takes a couple of steps closer, feeling his own body start to fire up each time another inch that separates them is overcome.

Timothée´s breathing is already altered, his chest is heaving underneath his worn out white shirt, his palms are sweating and yet he can´t wait for Armie to close the distance between them. Once Armie is merely an inch away from him, Timothée pushes himself away from the door and stands straight, licking his lips as he stares up at Armie.

It feels like years have passed before they are actually pressed against one another, Armie´s large hands cradling Timothée´s face as their lips move together in synchrony, Timothée´s slender fingers gripping onto Armie´s tight black shirt, keeping him close. Armie´s thigh presses against Timothée´s groin while one hand slides to his soft curls and tugs on it, a smile spreading across his lips at the almost inaudible moan that escapes from the younger man.

He runs the tip of his tongue across Timothée´s lips and shoves it inside his mouth the second he gives him opening. Timothée, feeling every single fiber of his being come to life with just a kiss, slides his hand inside Armie´s shirt, feeling the feverish skin against his palm. He sighs in delight as he feels the soft chest hair against his fingertips, groans as Armie´s thigh presses harder against his hardening dick and nearly feels his legs turn into jelly as Armie bites and pulls on his lip.

Their eyes meet, their faces are flushed and their breathing hasty. Seconds pass and Armie takes hold of Timothée´s hand, leading him to the bed. He sits down on the edge, pulls Timothée down to his lap and pulls his shirt off of him. His large hands trace Timothée´s skin from his hand, down his arm and to his chest; he can feel the goosebumps, he can see Timothée arching his back and silently asking for more contact, which he gives.

Armie´s lips trail Timothée´s skin, leaving wet kisses all over his velvet skin, all the while their eyes are locked on one another. Timothée can barely contain himself, the fire inside of him, the trembling of his lips, the aching in his pants, it is all too much. He has never felt such a thing with anyone he has ever been with.

He grips onto Armie´s golden hair, pulls on it with all his might and throws his head back as Armie´s tongue circles his hard nipple. The moan that escapes him is loud, but he doesn´t care if anyone else can listen, all he cares about is how he feels, how Armie makes him feel.

Armie cradles Timothée´s face and brings their lips together once more, this kiss more urgent, deep and rough than the first. He moans softly as Timothée´s hand find his cock and rubs it through the tight jeans; he inhales deeply, pressing himself against Timothée´s palm and urges him to keep on going.

Timothée does so, his lips kissing and sucking on Armie´s skin, leaving a wet and reddening trail behind. He opens the zipper and button, his hand invading Armie´s boxers and wrapping it around his cock. A gasp escapes both of them, Armie for the sudden tight grip around him and Timothée, well Timothée is truly astonished with the girth and length of the cock in his hands.

"Damn it, how can you keep this thing tamed?"

Armie chuckles, takes off his own shirt and in a swift movement rolls them around on the bed and lays Timothée underneath him. They stare at one another with blissful smiles on their faces, hands exploring each other´s skin and eyes filled with lust. It takes them less than a minute to find themselves naked, arms and legs tangled, lips attached and their moans filling the air.

 

_ Baby I want you _

_ Like the roses want the rain _

_ You know I need you _

_ Like a poet needs the pain _

_ I would give anything _

_ My blood my love my life _

_ If you were in these arms tonight _

  
  


********

 

The moon is full and high on the sky, illuminating the mostly dark and now extremely quiet town. The black motorcycle shines under the moonlight, the reception door is closed and the sign of vacancy keeps banging against the glass on the door as the wind blows. From the reception door you can hear the faint sounds of laughter and voices echoing in the night. 

Armie and Timothée are wide awake in bed, their legs tangled, the striped sheets tossed over them in a bad attempt to cover a part of their bodies. They are sweaty, their skin shining and their hair messy, lips swollen and cheeks redden. Their eyes are glistening and the smiles on their faces are of the most genuine kind; it wasn´t just a typical one night stand, they had connected in ways they had not expected to do so, they had realized that they could talk about nearly anything and even with the extremely different backgrounds, they could still understand one another.

They shared life experiences, dreams for their futures, their disappointments in life and taste in music and films. Armie was extremely amused to find out Timothée once had the dream of becoming an actor, but that had changed drastically into the dream of becoming an actual chef. Timothée couldn´t fathom at first what would make Armie give up on everything his family had and try to make it on his own, but then soon noticed that freedom, whether is of mind or physical, is much more important than anything else.

Timothée found Armie´s scent intoxicating, like a drug he could never get over; strong, manly, unique. He snuggled his face in the crook of Armie´s neck, breathed him in and there he stayed. His fingers traced the golden chest hair, drawing patterns, pulling on it and just feeling the softness against his skin. Every single detail about this man was like a painting, a statue, a work of art.

Armie´s thoughts wasn´t as far off, as his fingers stroked Timothée´s curls and his eyes roamed through his body, he realized he had never seen anything as beautiful as the man in his arms. Timothée´s features were delicate and yet ones you would never forget, the touch of his skin was soft and his eyes were like mirrors to his soul. He was a gift from God and Armie didn´t even believe in God.

Timothée giggles at the feel of Armie´s beard against his skin, it scratches but it also arouses him, it sends little tremors down his body. He rubs it against his palm, makes Armie look at him and kisses him deeply, passionately and hungrily. He swings his leg around Armie´s body, straddles him and allows his hands to run down his muscular chest, feeling every inch of his skin.

"You are the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life." Each word comes followed by a kiss or a bite and Timothée can feel Armie´s body heat up. "Please, tell me how a man like you are single."

"Who says I am?" Timothée´s head shoots up from under Armie´s neck, his eyes wide and his lip trapped in between his teeth. "I was just joking."

"Not funny, not funny at all."

"You scared you had become my mistress?" Timothée rolls his eyes. "I can´t believe a man like you is single either."

"Have you taken a good look around this town? How many guys  who are into other guys you think I will find here?"

"Glad I showed up, then." 

"Oh, you have no idea."

"I had a feeling you just wanted me for my body."

"What else would I need you for?" Teased Timothée, his fingers combing Armie´s hair. He sighed, green eyes roaming through Armie´s face and taking in every single detail of his features. "At what time do you plan on leaving?"

"As soon as I get up, I want to be in New Orleans before lunch."

"In that case, maybe we should make the best out of this night, huh?"

Armie smirks, hands sliding down Timothée´s torso and underneath the sheets. He rubs on his hips, then his ass cheeks and smiles wide at the look of bliss on Timothée´s face. When Armie takes a hold of his cock, stroking it slowly, the little whimpers that escape Timothée are like music to his ears.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers on Timothée´s ears before nibbling on it. "I wish I could have you every single day of my life."

Timothée throws his head back, feeling the scratching of Armie´s beard against his neck. He breathes heavily, runs his nails all over Armie´s back and lets a little squeal when Armie rolls them over on the bed and hovers on top of him. 

"You can have me whenever you want."

"I might take you on that offer."

Timothée chuckles and watches with lustful eyes and shiny lips as Armie kisses down his body until he reaches his cock. He gasps as Armie´s wet tongue traces the whole length of his shaft and grips onto the bed sheets as Armie´s mouth engulfs him, inch by inch until he is buried deep down his throat. Timothée arches his back, the sweat dripping down his body as he moves a hand to Armie´s hair, grabbing a fistful of it and encouraging him to keep on going.

  
  


*******

 

Armie wakes up to an empty bed and an empty room, the quietness surrounding him and the sun starting to peek in through the curtains. One quick look at the clock on the wall across from the bed and he sees it´s nearly nine in the morning, if he wants to be in New Orleans by lunch time, he must hurry up and get ready to leave.

He sighs deeply, rolling around the bed for a couple of seconds, feeling Timothée´s scent invade his nostrils. He smiles at the thoughts of the night they spent together, the laughs they shared and how easy it was to talk to him. Armie never met anyone quite like Timothée and although it was clear from the beginning this was going to be a one night thing, it was still disappointing to go without even a goodbye.

Maybe he should have appreciated the night a bit more, taken every single second as the last one.

Armie knows those thoughts won´t get him anywhere though, so he gets up and lazily moves his naked body to the bathroom. The water is cold, but works just fine to get him fully awake, his hands soaping up his body, sadly washing away the remnants on the night.

Once out of the shower, Armie rummages around his backpack, fishes some clean clothes and quickly puts it on before shoving the dirty ones back inside. His blue eyes search the room for his combat boots and he rushes to put them on, biting on a cereal bar he found on the bottom of his backpack. Once he was closer to New Orleans he would worry about some proper food.

He checks his phone, no messages except for Nick complaining about being alone yet once again, and then shoves it inside his bag and swings it over his shoulder. One last look around the room and he can´t help but smile, it´s as if he can still see Timothée on the bed, a wide smile on his face and his curls falling on his eyes as he talks enthusiastically.

Armie walks out of the room with his head down, hands inside his pocket and a serious look on his face. The walk down the long corridor also brings memories, but he tries to shake it off as he reaches the reception and watches as Bertha smiles wide at him. 

"Good morning, Armie."

"Morning, Bertha."

"I hope you enjoyed your stay here with us."

Armie smiles. "More than you can imagine." 

"I´m glad."

He chuckles and picks out a few bills from his wallet, handing it to Bertha, who simply smiles and nods her head. Armie reaches for her hand, kisses it and smirks as the woman´s cheeks turn a bright pink. He gives her one last nod and puts on his sunglasses, heading off of the tiny reception as he tries to find his keys on the backpack.

The moment he looks up, Armie stops abruptly and arches an eyebrow. There, leaned against his motorcycle is Timothée, backpack on his back, sunglasses on and tossing a large coffee cup to the garbage nearby. 

"What took you so long?"

Armie looks around as if Timothée could be talking to someone else, his mind racing as he takes a couple of steps closer. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought that maybe you could give me a ride to New Orleans? You promised you would give me a ride on your moto, but let´s be honest, the ride from the bar to here isn´t exactly that much."

"Do your parents know you are here?"

Timothée takes off his sunglasses, shooting Armie a look. "You didn´t seem bothered about my parents yesterday night, while you were pulling on my hair and making me scream your name."

Armie bites of his lip as he tries to suppress a laugh. The look on Timothée´s face is naughty, teasing and yet serious. 

"You seriously want to get on this and ride with me to New Orleans? A man you know for less than twenty four hours?'

He shrugs. "I am willing to take the risk. Are you?"

Armie takes a quick look around before closing the gap that separates him and Timothée, his hands leaning against the motorcycle and trapping Timothée in between his arms. Timothée reaches over and removes Armie´s sunglasses, a smirk on his face as their eyes meet.

"I am known for being a risk taker."

"Hum...." Timothée slides his hands down Armie´s chest and grabs fistfuls of his shirt, his eyes roaming from Armie´s lips to his eyes repeatedly. "Sexier risk taker I have ever seen."

A part of Armie knows they probably shouldn´t, but he can barely register that thought before Timothée pulls him down and locks their lips together. The kiss is brief, but intense and passionate, that fire that consumed them the previous night still quite vivid inside of them. 

"Hop on, kid."

"You really gotta stop calling me kid, okay?"

Armie chuckles as he hops on the motorcycle. "Fine, Ti-mo-thée, just hop on."

Timothée rolls his eyes but obeys, hoping on the motorcycle and taking the helmet Armie handed to him. He puts it on and tightly wraps his arms around Armie´s waist, leaning his chin on Armie´s shoulder with a wide smile on his face.

Armie takes one quick look at Timothée and smiles, shaking his head at the goofy look on the younger man´s face. He starts the engine, the roaring sound echoing in the quiet dirty road; he accelerates and starts down the road, slowly at first but quickly increasing his speed. New Orleans is less than two hours away, they will have plenty of time to enjoy the town. Together.

 

_ My heart beats like a drum (all night) _

_ flesh to flesh, one to one (and it's alright) _

_ and I'll never let go cause _

_ there's something I know deep inside _

_ You were born to be my baby _

_ And baby, I was made to be your man _

_ We got something to believe in _

_ even if we don't know where we stand _

_ only God would know the reasons _

_ but I bet he must have had a plan _

_ Cause you were born to be my baby _

_ and baby, I was made to be your man _

 


End file.
